


Pounce

by aisle_one



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisle_one/pseuds/aisle_one





	Pounce

When Charles is soft, the entirety of him fits in Erik's mouth, cock snug against the inside curve of his cheek, balls pressed to the back of his teeth, drawing tight and high as Erik suckles them. Charles grabs at whatever is nearby, hissing an obscenity and demanding that Erik stop - _for chrissake people will see_ \- less concerned with his knees as they buckle despite Erik's hands digging into the back of his thighs, holding him in place. 

Charles latches onto a wrist and tugs, insistent: bedroom, closet, or there - he juts with his chin to a shadowed groove just past the curtains, the only hidden nook in the otherwise open clearing of the study. Not here, splayed now against the bookshelf from Erik's maneuvering, and he drops the book he's been gripping like an anchor in sanity, but he looses it, his eyes rolling back, when Erik swirls his tongue, sucks _just so_.

The resistance seeps away in bits, with a pull of Erik's mouth, a long, luxurious lick commencing from the underside of Charles's balls to the tip of his cock, up the flat planes of his torso, ducking to taste his bellybutton, and dragging unhurriedly over one nipple, while Erik's fingers work the head of his weeping cock. They scrape, dry, over his hole, and suddenly Erik's rough hands are spinning him around so that he's flat against the window, peering over the mansion grounds. He smears white on glass and leaves fingerprint smudges as he scrambles for purchase, finding none until Erik ropes his wrists from behind, metal sinking into his flesh, pliable as satin, and his hands land on top of Erik's head, the heels of them pressing bruisingly as Erik spreads him wide, wider, the kiss of air cool against his flesh. Then it's hot. Wet. Messy and noisy as Erik slurps with abandon, trails of his saliva slicking the inside of Charles's trembling thighs. 

In the distance, Charles hears chatter. Outside, the lawn gradually populates. Erect and throbbing against his stomach, his cock is a flaming red, thick and veined, and embarrassing, and it's not too late for shelter, just mere feet away, a slide behind the curtains. _You could_ \- Erik whispers into his ear, wiggling his fingers against his temple, as he slips inside Charles easily. Too easily, as if the curve of his cock was made for this, targeted for the spot in Charles that makes bright spots burst in blinding constellations behind his shut eyes. 

He can. He tries, when one of the boys turns his head and looks up. He manages a fleeting, brainless illusion. The window is curtained - it _is_ , and he holds it until the boy looks away, until Erik bucks into him sharp, stealing his breath and concentration, shattering the illusion, and the pain-pleasure flares with shocking clarity, abruptly unsparing, and they're coming simultaneously. _Fuck._ Charles whimpers, screams, bites down on Erik's hand as it rises to cover his mouth, clamping it shut as he shakes and curses through the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

Afterwards, Charles shoves a laughing Erik off, but not before Erik, sly and smug, plants a kiss on Charles's temple and says: better, much, much better.


End file.
